


dance into the sky

by mochibbh



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Fairy Tale Elements, God Nakamoto Yuta, Human Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, M/M, doyoung and kun are twins, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochibbh/pseuds/mochibbh
Summary: “Our God, I am unworthy of being in your presence,” Doyoung said on one knee, not daring to look at Yuta’s face.“On your feet, Doyoung. You’re plenty worthy,” Yuta assured.🎐🎐🎐This is the legend of how the God of the Moon met his human lover.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Qian Kun, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	dance into the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosywonu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosywonu/gifts).



> dedicated to: rosywonu
> 
> prompt: A human is given as a sacrifice to a God by the people in his village and they fall in love.
> 
> edit post-reveals: !!! issa me! i rly hope everyone who's already read this enjoyed, and to everyone who's about to read: please enjoy and leave a comment if u so please! i love u all, and i present to u: a tiny doyu
> 
> title from aimer's [_Last Stardust._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILS8ITPBCz0)  
> 
> 
> _"最後の stardust_   
>  _舞いあがれ"_

Kun had always been the more beautiful sibling, but Doyoung never resented him for that.

Doyoung was born 14 minutes after Kun, so Kun got the bigger gifts on their birthday, the better food, the easiest chores. It never mattered to Doyoung, not when Kun was always so kind to him. They played together once Doyoung was done washing their clothes, and Kun slipped him the fresher oysters when no one else was looking. Doyoung looked up to Kun, whose skin was free of blemishes and scars and spots, whose eyes shined light and blue. The tips of his hair were tinged the slightest shade of blue as well, like he was born from the ocean before he was quite ready.

Doyoung’s eyes are dark, a pure reflection of the sky at night. He bruises easily and has scars scattered around his body from doing all of the handiwork since he was a child, and his face is littered with freckles. His hair has been white since the day he was born, as white as the snow that the elders have spoken about but Doyoung has never seen. The adults in the village treated him like the other children, but his peers were afraid of him.

It’s because he was born second. Doyoung had Kun, so he didn’t mind.

🎐🎐🎐

January 16th was their Coming of Age day. They were turning 12 years old.

Like everything else in their lives, the day was shared between the two of them, but Kun got the fanfare that Doyoung didn’t. The weeks leading up to the day were bizarre; Kun was seldom at home after Doyoung returned from the boats they used to catch fish and crabs, and when he was home, it was with a look on his face Doyoung hadn’t seen before. His skin continued to become softer, smoother, in contrast to Doyoung who’d become calloused from traversing the sea for the village’s food. Kun’s hair was silky and glossy while Doyoung’s was sea-rough and white as ever.

Their coming-of-age necklaces were to be prepared by the village elders, and when Doyoung saw them, his eyes sparkled. Kun’s was made of white camellias, strung together with the thinnest of cotton threads, so fine it seemed invisible. It was placed over Kun’s head delicately, and Kun closed his eyes to accept the blessing from the village’s eldest. They stood calf-deep in the shallow ocean, the water clear and glistening against the sun. The white material of his robes pooled around his legs, drifting gently atop the water making Kun look like he was floating. 

“May the gods bless your spirit and may your heart remain pure,” the elder spoke, the whole village gathered on the sand to witness Kun’s blessing. A bonfire was next to them on the side, and Doyoung assumed it was to cook the food they would later eat for celebration. Doyoung’s stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he let his mind drift to the food Kun would get to eat later. He was so entranced in his imagination that he nearly missed the elder’s final words for Kun.

“You are hereby appointed as the island’s overseer, the shaman of Prayer.”

Doyoung’s eyes widened upon hearing the words as Kun’s eyes opened. “I accept this duty as the first-born of two twins.” His words spoke of acceptance, but his blue eyes were solemn and muddled for once. He turned around to walk out of the sea, and he spared Doyoung the quickest of glances as a flash of guilt appeared across his face.

He said nothing, but he mouthed, _“I love you,”_ with a look of desperation as he passed Doyoung.

Doyoung’s confusion intensified as he stepped into the sea for his own blessing. Dead flowers and leaves were strung on a thread and placed around Doyoung’s neck, bringing with them the scent of fire and death amidst the salt of the ocean around his legs.

The elder waved a hand towards other villagers who came and slid Doyoung’s white robes off of him, leaving him in his shorts. Strong men gathered around him and forced him to his knees, the water splashing around him as he grunted with the force of it all. They restrained his arms and legs, holding painfully tight, bruising his skin.

Doyoung, panicked and confused, looked up towards the elder to ask what was going on. His mouth opened partway before he felt the heat of a fire against the skin of his back, then there was nothing but white, searing pain, centered on his back and spreading through his blood. He screamed against the heat, but strong arms held him in place as he uselessly thrashed around at the elder’s feet in the water.

An eternity passed before it’s over, leaving Doyoung with a pain on his back so intense he questioned how he was still alive. Someone splashed saltwater on the wound and he sobbed out a hiss as a different kind of burn washed over him. He looked up with bleary, tear-filled eyes to the elder and received a cold look of indifference in return.

“The second born,” the elder started, “the one tainted with darkness, is hereby appointed as the island’s shaman of Death.”

_Kun knew,_ Doyoung thought as strong hands lifted him to his feet. As he was lifted away to the other end of the island, the villagers and Kun following close behind, Doyoung grit his teeth against the manhandling and was thrown onto the ground.

His head reeled with pain and confusion, but he still took in their surroundings. He was thrown into an enclosure with tall, wooden spikes all around him. An opening, big enough for one person to come and go, closed, with the villagers on the other side, locking Doyoung in. To his left was a hut, similar to his home but smaller, only fit for one person, and a similar enclosure was mirrored on his right with an identical hut, if not sturdier. He turned his head over his shoulder and found a dark, deep cave in back of him. He heard the sound of the waves hitting the side of the cliff they were on top of, distant and muted, telling Doyoung they were higher than he’d ever been on the island. The wooden spikes surrounding him were thick and tall, too tall for him to climb, with not enough space in between for him to squeeze through.

Doyoung was trapped.

From the other side of the wooden fence he was thrown into, the elder’s voice boomed. “From now until the day you turn 18, you will be in charge of seeing our village’s dead into the afterlife. Your first task is seeing the previous shamans on their way. Their bodies have already been wrapped and placed inside of the cave. You’re to check on them every day for seven days until they have passed from this world to the next. This is your duty as the defiled second born.” Without waiting for a response, he nodded his head toward Kun, who bowed his head in return. He walked into the mirroring enclosure to Doyoung’s right, the two of them separated by another wall of wooden spikes. He looked as if he was walking obediently, but Doyoung could tell he was trudging his feet. “You have been training to pray over this island,” the elder spoke again. “Fulfill your duty until your body no longer allows you to. You will both be brought food, thrice a day for the elder brother, once a day for the younger. Neither of you are to have contact with another human again.”

Doyoung, eyes still squinting with the pain radiating from his back, scanned the crowd beyond the wooden fence for his family. His younger siblings were crying, and his mother was tight-lipped, facing neither of her sons. With a sudden wave of the elder’s robe, the village dispersed, making their way down the mountain. Doyoung didn’t move until he heard his younger siblings’ cries stop.

He finally stood, reaching a hand behind himself to see if he could assess the damage by touching the wound. Immediately, he hissed with regret, twitching at the movement.

“There should be supplies in your hut to treat that.” Kun’s soft voice emerged from Doyoung’s right. “If you bring it over here, I can help you dress it.”

Doyoung swallowed harshly. “We’re separated by that fence,” he replied, small and suddenly exhausted.

Kun walked up to the wooden spikes and sat, poking his thin arms between them. “I can fit my arms through,” he said, waving his arms up and down. “Go get the stuff you need and bring them here. Don’t do it yourself, you won’t be able to reach.”

Doyoung listened to his older brother after a brief moment, entering the small hut and finding the things he needed to dress the wound. _Am I supposed to do this by myself?_ he wondered. Not willing to find out, he obeyed Kun and brought everything over to him, sitting with his back to the wood and letting Kun apply salve to his back.

Doyoung flinched away from Kun’s touch but took a deep breath and settled, letting Kun dress the injury. There were no words between the two of them as Kun worked, only the soft sounds of the breeze rustling in the trees’ leaves before Doyoung decided to be the one to speak up.

“How long have you known?” he asked. He felt a pause against his back before Kun resumed his movements.

“About a month ago,” Kun admitted. “I didn’t… ask for this. And I know you didn’t, either.” Soft hands worked gently against Doyoung’s back, soothing slave calming down the stinging pain he felt. “Normally, they pick the shamans from the Lee family.” Doyoung nodded, understanding. The Lee family was the biggest family on the island, and their children were always chosen for these positions. They were typically raised their whole lives for it and were respectfully granted these roles.

“Then why us?” Doyoung asked, quiet.

Kun’s hands kept rubbing softly as he answered. “Twins are a bad omen. There are different practices in place for twins,” Kun explained. “They didn’t tell you because they couldn’t have you running away before we were 12. They wouldn’t let me say anything.” The hands on Doyoung’s back slowly came to a stop. “Doie, I’m… I’m so sorry. This isn’t what you deserve,” he whispered. Doyoung heard a soft sniffle from behind him. 

He turned around, the pain on his back a dull ache instead of a piercing one, and reached between the wooden fence to take a hold of Kun’s hand. “You didn’t do this to me,” Doyoung said, rubbing his thumb in circles on top of Kun’s. “It’s okay. I still have you.”

He spent the next hour sitting on the other side of the wood, holding Kun’s hand as his older brother’s tears landed on his fingers.

Doyoung didn’t understand his purpose until, after a week of staring at the faces of two dead corpses, he blinked his eyes awake and saw two semi-transparent, blurry figures standing before him. They stroked his hair, and Doyoung heard a whisper of _“thank you,”_ warm against his ear.

When he sat up and rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, they were gone.

🎐🎐🎐

Only one more day remained until the twins turned 18. At that point, Doyoung knew that meant one more day until he was to be given to the god of their island through ritual sacrifice.

Doyoung wasn’t keen on dying, but he had no qualms about it, either. His parents had already passed, he’d been the one to see them both off, and he hadn’t heard from his younger siblings since he turned 12, though Kun told him a year ago that they’d snuck their way up to Kun’s side of the enclosure, telling him how they planned to escape the island to another place, far away from their small village. Doyoung had breathed a sigh of relief at that—he knew how capable Jisoo and Jeno were. As long as they were together, they could be okay. Doyoung’s only regret in his life was that he couldn’t say goodbye to any of his family before they were all separated, by death, by circumstance, by desperation. The only family he had left was Kun, and Doyoung was content to die by his brother’s hand, which was the plan.

The moon rose high on the night before his death day, so Doyoung left his small hut and made his way across the short field of dirt and grass as he always did. His saving grace was meeting Kun in the middle of the night so that they two could talk and eat together, even though it went against the island’s rules. Doyoung sat on his side of the wooden spikes, unwrapping his small meal from banana leaves.

“Kun?” Doyoung called out for his brother and shivered against the wind, wishing the clothes that he’d overgrown magically fit him again. Though he and his older brother differed in nearly every way, their voices turned out to be surprisingly similar: clear and light, though still unique and distinguishable. It never mattered, though—no one else had seen the way Doyoung had grown into a young man but Kun.

Doyoung called out to his brother one more time, but he did not emerge from his hut on the other side of the fence. Confused and disappointed, Doyoung finished his meal alone, under the light of the moon.

The ritual was to be done in secret, only to be shared between the two brothers, and it was to take place at night. Doyoung had done all he can to prepare things for the next in line of his position; he spent his days writing journals, songs, anything to help the next child feel less alone. He also wrote down tiny tidbits about Kun, like his favorite foods and drinks, his favorite game, the things he and Doyoung enjoyed doing together despite the barrier between the two. He hoped it would serve as even the slightest reprieve in the suffocating isolation.

The full moon shone bright on Doyoung’s death night, and he took that as a sign of fortune. He would never consider himself unlucky, even if the rest of the village did, not when he had the best brother a boy could ask for by his side for all of these years. That was why, if he had to die, he wanted Kun to be the one who dealt the final blow.

Kun was granted access to Doyoung’s enclosure for this event, and when Doyoung exited his hut and closed the door behind him for the final time, Kun was already there. He wore his ritual robes, the ones he had never shown to Doyoung before, and Doyoung was stunned by the sight. Suddenly, he was aware of the fact that the two of them, though still young, were no longer just children: they were growing into men with a purpose.

But Doyoung had already served his.

When Kun noticed Doyoung, his face morphed into one of elation as he ran towards Doyoung and threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck. The two of them fell backwards, and Doyoung whispered, “Fool, what if others see?” but his arms wrapped tightly around his brother as well. It had been so long since he had any contact with another person and felt their warmth, so he buried his head in his brother’s luxurious robes and counted the seconds left until he would no longer have this.

Too soon, Kun lifted himself off of his brother and stood, holding a hand out to help Doyoung, who took it and stood by him. Doyoung bent down slightly to pat the dirt away from his brother’s white robes, clicking his tongue. “Mother would scold you for getting dirty like this.”

“You’re doing it for her,” Kun retaliated. His eyes were watery, reflecting the light of the moon.

Doyoung smiled, small, and reached out for Kun’s hand. “This is how it has to be,” he reminded his brother. “I’ve told you over and over again that to die by your hand is a privilege. Besides,” Doyoung turned his head toward the moon, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Kun grit his teeth, eyes cast aside with pain apparent in them, but he nodded. That was how they two of them found themselves sitting in the middle of Doyoung’s enclosure with Doyoung’s back facing his brother, kneeling towards the cave that housed countless of their village’s dead.

It was supposed to happen like this: Kun would perform his prayers to the God of the Moon, the protector of their island, to rid them of their last impurity, then stab Doyoung in his back, through his brand. Doyoung had prepared himself for what it would be like; painful, no doubt, but would it be quick? Would it be slow? Would his sweet brother be able to bring himself to kill another, even if that person was just a stain on the island like Doyoung?

Doyoung had his answer when he heard Kun’s prayers, whisper silent and indecipherable. He swallowed against his lingering fear and doubts, tensing for the pain he would feel, when he heard Kun unsheathe his blade. Doyoung sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, fists clenched in his lap, then Kun’s palm was hitting him, right in the center of his brand.

Doyoung gasped at the sensation, having been expecting something much sharper and painful. He made to turn around and ask Kun what he was doing, but he found himself immobile. Sitting in place as Kun mumbled behind him, Doyoung had no choice but to wait for the unknown.

“Kun. After all the times we’ve communicated in the past years, it’s good to finally meet you.”

A voice sounded from behind Doyoung, one with a playful lilt and a warmth that made Doyoung’s heart pound. Kun’s hand disappeared from Doyoung’s back as he answered, “God of the Moon, it is an honor to be in your presence.”

Doyoung held his breath. The God of the Moon was with them, and Doyoung couldn’t even turn around to properly greet them.

“Though we’ve been corresponding for quite a few years now, it is our first time properly meeting. I’m glad to see you in good health, growing into such a handsome young man. Please, call me Yuta,” the god insisted. Doyoung strained against Kun’s force to move his head just to get a glimpse of him, but to no avail. “Why have you called me here?” A pause. “Ah, this was the night that the younger brother was supposed to be killed in my name. What a troublesome ritual your village still insists upon,” Yuta stated with a disapproving tone.

“So it is true,” Kun breathed. “This ritual serves no purpose.” Doyoung’s heart continued to beat wildly in his ears.

Yuta made a noise of agreement. “It is a myth that the second born twin is defiled.” He clicked his tongue and Doyoung felt soft fingers trail along the raised scars of his brand. He shivered from the contact. “And they still do this, as well… I thought the elders would have rid themselves of these sorts of practices by now,” he sighed out in disappointment.

“Yuta, on this night, the night we turn 18 years of age, I am supposed to kill my brother to rid the island of its greatest impurity,” Kun recited. “However, I have called you here to instead take my brother, Doyoung,” he said, voice firm. Doyoung’s eyes widened. “Take him far away from here. Let him live a long, healthy life.”

The god hummed. “Kun, you have always served me well, and your village was right about one thing: your heart certainly is pure. But to ask me a favor requires a price,” Yuta explained.

There was silence between the three of them as Kun thought. “In exchange for my brother’s safety and well-being, I will relinquish your protection of this island and protect the island myself.”

Yuta whistled. “I may make it look easy, but protecting an island requires hard work, you know,” he told Kun.

“I believe myself to be capable.” He paused, and even though Doyoung could not turn his head to see, he knew Kun was biting his lower lip. “All I want is for my brother to be treated righteously and fairly,” he admitted in a breath.

There was silence again as Yuta pondered the exchange. “I accept,” he said eventually. Doyoung heard Kun breathe out a sigh of relief. Then, Yuta finally walked in front of him and appeared in his field of vision. Doyoung could hardly believe what he saw.

Yuta wore white robes, similarly to Kun, but his glowed brightly in the moonlight, almost shimmering. He appeared human, but he was surely too pretty to be one, and he was adorned with jewelry on his ears, neck, wrists, and fingers.

What stood out to Doyoung most, though, was Yuta’s pure, white hair.

Yuta also seemed captivated by Doyoung’s hair, raising his eyebrows in surprise upon seeing it. “Kun, you never mentioned how beautiful your brother is.” Doyoung, despite the situation, blushed. Kun also walked in front of Doyoung and huffed out a laugh. “Permission to speak,” Yuta granted.

Suddenly, Doyoung felt as if he had control of his body again, and he kneeled. “Our God, I am unworthy of being in your presence,” he said on one knee, not daring to look at Yuta’s face again.

“On your feet, Doyoung. You’re plenty worthy,” Yuta assured. Doyoung, still unsure, rose to his feet, but didn’t look Yuta in the eye. Yuta scoffed and took Doyoung’s chin in between his fingers, turning his face towards him. Doyoung looked into Yuta’s deep, black eyes, finding speckles of white in his irises. He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek. Yuta let go of Doyoung’s chin and turned back to Kun. “I will take him away from here. You have my word that he will live a long life where he is treated well,” Yuta said, bowing his head towards Kun.

Doyoung, panicked, gripped Kun’s sleeves. “Kun, I don’t want to leave you,” he begged, realizing the situation. “I’m ready to die, you know that.”

Kun threw his arms around his neck again and held him close. “But you don’t deserve that. You deserve the world, but you won’t get it here.” He pulled away and held Doyoung’s hands in his, giving him a watery smile. “Be well, Doie. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Doyoung took one last look at his brother before his world went black.

🎐🎐🎐

When Doyoung opened his eyes, he heard the sounds of the ocean close by.

He was lying on something soft and comforting, with a thin material covering his body. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, realizing that his clothes were different; he wore pants and a linen shirt that flowed gently against his skin, and he was pleasantly surprised when he stood and they actually fit him.

The events of what happened the night before hit him all at once, and he breathed out, “Kun,” as he ran out the door. There was fine sand at his feet, and the ocean lapped at the shore not far from where he stood. Yuta was there, letting the water come up and envelope his feet with every calm wave that greeted them. The sun shone bright, making Yuta’s hair gleam, and his robes were instead replaced with an outfit similar to Doyoung’s own. There was still jewelry on his ears and fingers, though not as much, and they glinted in the sun.

Doyoung approached the god carefully until he was standing by his side. “Where…” Doyoung looked around at the unfamiliar beach. They were alone together. “Where are we?”

Yuta glanced at him before looking back out at the ocean. “This is Japan,” Yuta said. “You’ve heard of Japan, yes? Your country does trades with this one.”

Doyoung lifted an eyebrow, scanning the beach again. “It looks no different than Korea,” he said skeptically. “Why are we here?”

Yuta closed his eyes against the gentle breeze and sat down, letting the ocean lap over his bottom half. Doyoung nearly chastised him for getting his clothes so mindlessly dirty, but remembered his place and stopped himself. “I come here to think. Did you know I was born here?” Yuta asked. Doyoung, surprised, shook his head. “All gods were born on Earth, save for the one who created it. I spend my time travelling to all places, but I have an affinity for my birth place.” He stole a look up at Doyoung. “I thought being here might help you relax.”

Doyoung pursed his lips. “You…” He hesitated. “You should have left me to die. I would have been content to die by Kun,” he said with fake conviction, letting his gaze drift to his side, away from Yuta.

“That’s a lie. Even if you’d have rather died by Kun’s hand, you preferred not to die at all,” Yuta said. Doyoung flinched, knowing it was true.

“I was ready to die,” he lied again.

Yuta stood, his pants dripping with water and wet sand. He looked Doyoung in the eye and Doyoung’s immediate reaction was to level him with the same look, even if he felt out of his depth with the god. “Say you truly were ready to die. How would Kun live the rest of his life knowing he murdered his beloved younger brother, even if it was his duty? Do you think Kun would be able to live with himself after that?” Doyoung held his breath, but Yuta continued. “Kun deserves a life knowing he did all he could to protect you. And _you_ ,” Yuta emphasized, poking a finger at Doyoung’s chest, “are a boy masquerading as a man. No matter how much you’ve been forced to believe otherwise, you deserve to live.”

Doyoung recoiled at the statement. No one had ever told him that before.

Stunned into silence, Doyoung stood in his place as Yuta walked past him. “I brought you here so you could experience freedom. You stay here—I have errands to run. I’m still a protector, even if I’m no longer in charge of your island anymore,” he ordered, stretching his arms above his head, walking back towards the small cabin Doyoung emerged from.

_“You will both be brought food, thrice a day for the elder brother, once a day for the younger. Neither of you are to have contact with another human again,”_ rang through Doyoung’s head, clear as day. He quickly turned around and caught up to Yuta, grasping his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t leave me alone,” Doyoung pleaded. “I don’t want to be alone again,” he whispered, ashamed.

Yuta’s expression turned sympathetic. “It won’t be forever, I promise. There’s food to last you here until the next time I come back.”

Doyoung shook his head. “Take me with you. I’ll help.”

The god’s eyebrows rose. “You think a mortal could assist a god?” he asked, sly.

Doyoung returned it with a smirk, strengthening his grip on Yuta’s wrist. “Try me.”

🎐🎐🎐

On Doyoung’s 25th birthday, Yuta finally brought him to the mountains of northern Japan.

They’d just finished fending off attackers from raiding a nearby village at the base of the mountain, one with divine protection from Yuta. Doyoung had assisted him in defending the village; ever since Yuta taught Doyoung how to use a bow, he became an unstoppable monster. The thought made Yuta shiver.

The one shivering the most at the moment, though, was Doyoung, who stepped into snow for the first time.

His teeth chattered uncontrollably, and Yuta rolled his eyes. “I told you it would be too cold for you,” he insisted.

Doyoung pouted and stuck his tongue out at Yuta. “You’re just saying that because you didn’t want to come,” he fought back through his teeth. It wasn’t snowing, but the snow on the ground soaked through to his ankles. This type of cold was something that Doyoung had never experienced, never even knew was possible.

“I’ll admit, I prefer summer climates,” Yuta said, sitting in the snow anyways.

“You’re going to get wet!” Doyoung whined, walking awkwardly over to Yuta and tugging on his shoulders to get him to stand, which Yuta begrudgingly did. “You’re going to freeze if you get all wet like that,” he said, patting the snow away from Yuta’s thighs.

“You know, I _am_ a god,” Yuta reminded him. He walked away from Doyoung’s grumbling, turning his back to him and picking up a handful of snow. When he made sure Doyoung wasn’t looking, he hurled the snow at him, and had the gall to pretend it came out of nowhere when Doyoung glared at him accusingly.

Yuta had already readied himself for the tackle from Doyoung and laughed as they two of them wrestled in the snow, wet clothes be damned. When the two of them were finally exhausted, they lied side by side, eyes closed against the blinding sun, catching their breath. “You know,” Doyoung said, remembering his time at his village, “the village elders would tell me my hair looked like snow. They said that snow brought death, so it was appropriate.” He was quiet, as Kun’s childish words played in his head: _they say that because they’re jealous, Doie. Your hair is pretty._

“Snow does bring death,” Yuta began. Doyoung grimaced, but Yuta continued, “and so does heat. The ocean brings death, and the winds bring death, and storms bring death. It’s not fair to single out snow.” Yuta is silent for a moment before speaking again. “Snow is also purity. I think that is why you were born with a head of snow.”

Doyoung swallowed and turned his head away, resting his cheek in the cold snow. The brand on his back burned.

“Hot springs are so much better in the cold,” Yuta sighed, sinking his body in the hot bathwater.

Doyoung stepped into the rock bath after him, lowering himself in to rid his body of the biting air on his skin. “And you said you hated the cold,” he teased, relaxing his head back onto a rock, closing his eyes.

Yuta splashed water onto him lightly, making Doyoung twitch in annoyance. “I only said I preferred summer. A man from the beach like you should have died as soon as you stepped onto the snow.”

Doyoung cracked an eye open and gave Yuta a smirk. “Oh, so I’m a man now?”

Yuta scoffed. “With the way you handle your bow and arrow? You were a man years ago.”

Doyoung huffed out a laugh and dipped his head under the water, reemerging and scrubbing his hair in the middle of the bath. He combed his wet hair away from his forehead and used the water to rub his face. He sighed, his muscles relaxing from the exciting day he had.

The feeling of a finger on his back had him standing still.

Yuta stood behind him, lightly tracing his finger over every ridge and scar on Doyoung’s back. Doyoung breathed out when Yuta finished, having traced over the characters for _“impure.”_ Yuta laid his palm flat in between his shoulder blades, murmuring, “You know that you’re just as pure of heart as your brother, right?”

Doyoung turned around and faced Yuta. He wasn’t human, so temperatures didn’t affect him like they did Doyoung, but Yuta’s face still flushed red with heat, from his cheeks to the tip of his nose. Doyoung ran his fingers gently through Yuta’s wet, white hair, fitting the silky strands behind his ear. He was taller than Yuta now, looking down at Yuta’s hooded eyes and plush lips as they stood a breath apart from each other in the warm water.

_If this is what my hair looks like,_ Doyoung thought to himself, cupping Yuta’s cheek in one of his hands, bigger than Yuta’s, _then I must be beautiful._

He brings Yuta’s face up to his and kisses him, deep and long, savoring the god’s soft lips against his own.

Yuta sighed shakily against Doyoung, moving a hand to rest on Doyoung’s waist, the other on his neck, pulling him closer. They stayed like that, connected, until Doyoung pulled away slowly.

“I think…” Doyoung swooped down for another, quick kiss. “I think I love you,” he told Yuta, blushing furiously.

Yuta’s laughter rang into the air, a sound that Doyoung could listen to forever. “I love you too, Doyoung,” he returned, holding Doyoung’s face in his hand. He had the power of a god, but his world was in the palm of his hand.

“Happy birthday.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this fic. please leave kudos or drop a comment if you did! and feel free to connect with me if you'd like:
> 
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